


ready to comply

by annariley (gracessence)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Civil War, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, bucky has ruined my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracessence/pseuds/annariley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years had passed since then. Now he remembered, even just barely, who he was. It didn’t really make him feel any better, or any worse. He felt numb to the whole thing, like how you feel when your parents tell you a story about your childhood but you were too young to remember it. That’s how he felt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ready to comply

**Author's Note:**

> after watching civil war i just keep coming up with cute shit that makes me wanna DIE so i thought id share with u guys 
> 
> ENJOY 
> 
> (also if u haven't seen civil war there's no spoilers (?) just small scene mentions)

The sound of the wind whistled passed Bucky’s ears as he fell to his inevitable death. Or what he thought was his death. Nothing could have prepared him for the pain that followed, the sheer feeling of his arm being ripped off was enough to knock him unconscious, only to wake up later with a metal arm attached to him.

It all happened in a haze. Like he was awake but just barely, floating between realities. Sometimes he saw himself back in the freight car with Steve by his side, fighting the good fight, other times he’d find himself opening his eyes to people standing over him, Russian spewing from their lips as if their lives depended on it. He wasn’t sure what was real anymore, and after a few weeks, the reality of Steve started to disappear into darkness.

Right now he stood across from the man he once knew as Steve, gun in hand ready to fire into his chest without hesitation. He didn’t know this man; he didn’t care about him. But just like that, something changed.

“Bucky?” the man said, confusion and pain behind his one word.

Of course, Bucky didn’t know that name. It had been whipped clear from his memory along with Steve. Nothing registered. But something, something clicked inside his head, slowly bringing out those blocked memories. And part of him was scared of them resurfacing, because for years he had been convinced that the reality he lived in was what it was, there was nothing else beyond him doing what he was told and that’s it. But now, this, this brought back a whole other world, another time.

 

Two years had passed since then. Now he remembered, even just barely, who he was. It didn’t really make him feel any better, or any worse. He felt numb to the whole thing, like how you feel when your parents tell you a story about your childhood but you were too young to remember it. That’s how he felt.

He knew about Steve thanks to the museum, and a few bits and pieces had started to unfold in his mind. He found pictures of Steve, of himself, of people he might’ve known back then, pasted them into a small notebook and kept it with him in case he ever forgot. Again.

At first, it was hard to deal with. Knowing that he had forgotten a whole life he had led. They made him forget his closest friend, his pal. How could they do that? He had nothing left now, everything was gone. He didn’t even have himself. And at the time he thought it would be best to just end it all right then and there. He was a wanted man anyway, so why not make their job easier?

Of course, he had tried to do it. Many times than he’d like to admit, but each time, each fucking time, he couldn’t go through with it. He’d break down crying, the knife, gun, whatever he had chosen, thrown across the room in a fit of anger. Each time he’d think he was ready to do it an image of Steve would flash through his mind, stopping him – breaking him. It hurt so much not being able to remember everything they did together. He was sure they did many things together, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember the events, the days. Nothing added up. Everything was just a big blur in his mind. He hated it.

So when the day finally came and he saw Steve standing in his small apartment, his notebook opened up, all his fears came back. Everything he had avoided came rushing back. But all he could do was stare at him, because he was there after all these years, he found him.

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asked. He was in full gear. Captain America from head to toe, even sporting the shield. Bucky just stared at him.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in the museum,” he said, half lying half telling the truth. He knew who he was, but not because of the museum, not entirely.

 

Now, even though he was somewhat better from Hydra’s mind control, he still got bad. At night he’d toss and turn, sweat, scream. It drove Steve crazy, but he learned to deal with it. That didn’t mean he liked it, though. It hurt him every time he heard Bucky’s screams, or feel him shake in the middle of the night. It broke him.

Bucky slept beside him, curled up. He’d fall asleep easily each night, but it wasn’t till later in the night when he’d start. Steve had found sleep fast that night, as soon as his eyes closed he had passed out. It had been a long day. But Bucky had a harder time. Every time he closed his eyes he saw flashes of his past coming back, murders, faces, everything he’d done.

To try and combat the memories he tried to think of new ones, pushing the old ones away. But he started running out of new ones, making the old ones resurface more vividly. He eventually found sleep only to find a nightmare on the other side.

In the dream he was running from Steve, running as fast as he ever felt his legs take him. He jumped and dodged people faster than he thought was possible, but he did it and the only goal on his mind was to get as far away as he could. He heard Steve’s voice calling after him, but he didn’t stop – wouldn’t stop. He knew, for some reason, if Steve caught him then it would all be over.

He quickly turned a corner on the street and slid into an alley way to catch his breath. He exhaled sharply, his lungs burning, his heart pulsating in his throat. Every muscle throbbed but it was worth it.

Then suddenly.

_Longing. Rusted. Seventeen._

Bucky whirled around. No. No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not here. He left that place, those people. They couldn’t have found him, not again.

_Daybreak. Furnace. Nine._

He fought against every part of himself. He didn’t want to hurt anyone again; he couldn’t let himself do that. But he knew he wasn’t going to win. He never did. And as the words echoed through out his head he started screaming to combat them. Maybe if he drowned them out he could forget about them and run away. But where would he go? What would he do? He was all alone. Not even Steve wanted to take care of him.

That’s when he found Steve standing behind him, muttering the words. He kept repeating them, getting louder and clearer each time he did. Bucky covered his ears, wanting it to stop.

“Stop! Stop it!” He cried, the pain all coming back. The memories all fading, the darkness engulfing him.

“ _Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight Car_.” Steve finished, towering over him.

Bucky stood up, stoned expression.

“Soldier,” Steve said.

Bucky felt himself fighting on the inside. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t make his body do what he wanted anymore. It was too late. He was gone and someone else had taken over.

“Ready to comply.”

 

“Buck! Bucky! Hey – whoa, easy. Calm down. It’s just a dream. Bucky!” Steve’s voice echoed through his head, and his eyes snapped open. He sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, heart racing in his chest he was sure it would explode through his ribcage any second. Then he saw Steve. Oh, God.

“Steve,” he muttered.

“Yeah. You’re fine, Bucky. It was just a dream. Whatever it was, it wasn’t real, okay?” Steve assured him.

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded, though he felt a darkness in him that wouldn’t go away. He clenched his fists against the mattress and exhaled.

“I need to go back under,” he said, more to himself than to Steve.

“Under? Under what?” Steve wasn’t following.

“The ice. I can’t trust myself – my mind. I need to be put away until – “ he paused, “ – until you find a way to get me back to normal.”

Steve pursed his lips. After all these years of looking for him, how could he possibly put him back on ice? But the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Why let him suffer through this when they could cure him – even if that took years, Steve told himself he’d find a way.

“If that’s what you want, Buck.”


End file.
